


Handsy

by Quality_Street_Sin



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: D/s undertones, Hand & Finger Kink, M/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Voyeurism, about eight disembodied android hands, bluetooth peripherals, wireplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-03
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-08-16 21:21:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16502924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quality_Street_Sin/pseuds/Quality_Street_Sin
Summary: Upon networking in some new peripherals, RK900 tries some hands-on experimentation... in the bedroom.





	Handsy

Gavin Reed was the perfect subject.

RK loved him— to the extent that one could love, on one's own home-brewed, self-learned code— but that didn't detract from his value the pragmatic sense.

"Oh, not those fucking things," Gavin complained, stepping back from the first of the advancing hands. "You do realise those are creepy as hell, right?"

RK said nothing— he simply raised an eyebrow, putting more focus on the precise control of the hand. It was his in design and function; the perfect recreation of his slim fingers, even down to the sparse freckles that had been added to make him seem more real.

He moved the hand gradually closer, enjoying the strange sensation of touch that cut out after the edge of the palm. He wanted Gavin used to one, before he overwhelmed him with the rest of them.

Gavin prodded the hand with a toe, and RK took the chance to grasp the leg of his jeans— he was getting used to the weight and sway of extraneous body parts, now, and guiding the hand gradually upwards was exponentially easy.

"I'm supposed to get sex for this," Gavin complained. "Remember? Or..."

The sentence dropped, drowned in surprise— more hands. Seven more, in fact. Scaling a suddenly wide-eyed Reed at speed, reflective of the gnawing want that steered them.

It was a test of dexterity; for a fleet of fingers to begin work on the buttons of his almost-office-appropriate shirt, to coordinate the motion of undoing the button of his jeans, clawing down the zip. Gavin’s shocked expression was adorable— as was the involuntary little _oh_ of realisation he made when he finally clocked on to what was happening.

They could be left almost to their own devices after that—piloted by something a bit more primal; the carefully constructed sensation of lust, warming RK from the inside out like something far more than lines of code. RK shifted in his seat, considering his options, his main set of fingers grazing the skin above his pelvic access panel, contemplating the sensitive space beneath.

It was fun, to watch Gavin squirm, to feel him beneath that remote touch. There was something of a thrill to the detached sensation— having him piece by piece, exactly as RK wanted him. The sensation of cupping his ass, the warmth of the small of his back, his pulse in the close heat of his inner thigh. So human. So delicate. And so wholly claimed.

RK had barely even touched him, and Gavin was already responding; a stray thumb grazing across his cock found it already growing stiff, hot through the fabric of his boxers.

"Lie down," RK commanded, and Gavin did so, flopping flushed and shaky onto the bed.

That gave more points of access— the glorious feeling of brushing fingers through Gavin’s hair, the human-warm skin between his legs, the beginnings of a bucking squirm when fingertips flicked his nipples. Soft, breathy sounds just grazing the range of human hearing, but audible in their full depth to RK’s sensors. That was what did it— that vocalised helplessness, the way that Gavin seemed to fall to pieces, malleable beneath the multitude of his hands.

RK’s access panel opened, the hatch recessing seamlessly back, and it was all he could do to keep from damaging himself in his desperation. It was unlike human arousal— he’d field-tested it himself— but it still carried a certain irresistible urgency.

He toyed slowly with his exposed internals at first. Reaching in delicately, pressing his fingertips directly to the equivalent of nerves— and prompting interface. He hit a rhythm, dragging his knuckles along the length of a bundle of cables, the insulating skin peeling back as that of his hand did. His touch tripped the current, made his body light up with pleasure in twenty different places as he watched Gavin through half-lidded eyes.

It was quite a show.

RK’s remote hands picked up the pace, slightly, finally working Gavin out of his boxers and focusing on his flushed cock, one hand poised to tease the head, another curling around the base of the shaft, leveraging from the hipbone to get a little bit of motion. That could be rote; he focused on himself again, reaching upwards, snagging with his fingertips the lines that ran to his own spine, triggering the sublime vibrato of variable current. He synced the motion to the hands on Gavin, enjoying the mutuality.

The human body was a strange, complicated thing, each part so utterly attuned to the individual— RK would never understand it in the depth he knew himself. There was no instruction manual for turning Gavin on.

That was part of what made it so much fun.

He explored it, in as many angles as possible— the shifting flex of muscle as Gavin bucked into the hand stroking him, the rushing rise of his breathing, the softness of his lips, and probing past that, the warm, wet cavity of his mouth, Gavin’s tongue wrapping around the two fingers RK slid in; the delectable twitch of the muscle. Peeling back synth-skin, as if to interface, led to a slight and glorious jolt of current. He could _taste_ the response, almost, in the analytical sensors built into his body; a shift in salivary neurotransmitters. He tuned in to everything, to the molecular minutae of skin and sweat and precum.

RK strummed a hand across the wiring at the base of his ribcage, like harp-strings, then carefully selected one, teasing it free from connection, and locking the corresponding intercostal muscle. He repeated that with shaking fingers for each one he could reach, his hand and wrist warmed by his internals, the sensation of surging circulation thrumming past where he brushed by his thirum vessels.

“Jesus fuckin’ christ-” Gavin grunted the words around RK's hand, then grabbed for the hand wrapped around his cock. He'd grown impatient.

Feeling, observing and matching Gavin’s self-directed stroking, RK shifted focus, grazing the wiring around the biggest thirum vessel in his body, entangling his fingers near where it paralleled his spine— it was gloriously raw, each touch magnified by the proximity to his most vital parts. It was that which made his composure finally start to slip— that which had him panting, pushing towards his built-in limit, curling into the feeling, huffing static.

Gavin’s heartbeat jumped beneath one palm, his eyes focusing on RK as the hands twitched, fingers curling against his warm skin. It was getting difficult to keep track of all the points of contact, so RK focused on one— prodding the curve of Gavin’s ass until he leant back enough to lift his hips, and then began to tease.

Gavin was near enough gagged by the hand in his mouth, but that still prompted pleading, and—because really, RK couldn’t focus on anything more complex— the desire to indulge.

His whole arm alight with points of interface, RK spent a few more seconds teasing with a single finger, then slid it in.

Immediately, Gavin went tight around him, his hips jerking up as he came. A low moan of bliss escaped him, and the hands RK had spaced out across his torso moved immediately to sample the result.

That was what did RK in; the precise and recognisable blend of cells and fluid, coupled with the rising overstimulation of his wires, making him too warm,pushing him past the peak of tolerable pleasure. It overwhelmed his processors, surged through his circuitry like an electric shock. It left him limp in Gavin’s desk chair, reveling in the aftershocks of it, and detangling his still-charged fingers.

“You- y’know,” Gavin mumbled, his voice warm and slack, mired in the afterglow. “You really gotta work on—” he raised a hand, and made a weak jacking-off motion with it. “With those.”

RK nodded.

“We should... repeat the experiment, in future,” he said, searching for a way to justify that future being tomorrow, or later that day, or as soon as his partner’s refractory period allowed. “To make sure our results are reliable.”

Gavin shuffled to the edge of the bed, brushing off the now-limp hands so he could go shower.

“Sounds like a plan.”

 


End file.
